


Stop All the Clocks

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon did not believe in goodbyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop All the Clocks

Avon did not believe in goodbyes. They always seemed like unnecessary emotional displays. So, he did not know why he was here, staring down at Blake’s body. They had cleaned him, dressed him; he did not look like he was sleeping. The dead never look as if they are sleeping.

They had even shaved away the stubble on his face.

Avon touched his cheek and grimaced; his skin was cold. He snatched his hand away and swallowed hard.

“You would be proud,” he started to say, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. It didn’t matter, Blake could not hear them. Still... he cleared his throat. “You would be proud of them, your people. I should be dead but they saved me. They... They should kill me, but they won’t.”

They’re fools, he didn't say, and so were you.

He reached over and adjusted the collar of Blake’s shirt. “They’re going to bury you. I told them it was a waste of time, but they listen as well as you do. Did. As well as you did.”

Avon took a step back and slipped a hand into his pocket. He’d found Blake’s Freedom Party medallion amongst his personal affects. He rubbed his thumb against the worn metal; Blake must have done the same.

He took a deep breath and before he could change his mind, he pulled off his ring and placed it in Blake’s breast pocket. It was a ridiculous gesture, but he knew it would have pleased Blake.

He opened his mouth, as if to speak again, then shut it with a snap. There was nothing left to say, and even if there were, what good would it do now?

Avon turned, and after a momentary pause, walked out of the room.


End file.
